Something Beautiful
by WitheringSage
Summary: Raja tries to defend Tristan when Lancelot makes fun of him for spending time with the little girl. And Tristan sees deeper into the haunted mind of Raja.
1. Chapter 1

Note: You might notice the absence of Gawain and Galahad. That is because (in my head) Galahad is three years older than Raja, and at 11, he probably would have been a bit too young to be at Britain.

Note: As this series goes on, you might notice a change in Raja's behavior. I let my therapist read these stories and I ask her opinion and stuff, and she told me that Raja seems a bit too mature and cheeky at this age, especially considering what she had been through in Egypt. (Which has yet to be said.) So, as this goes on, she will seem more childlike and naive, because I developed her in another way.

**Something Beautiful**

_Close my eyes and hold my heart  
Cover me and make me something  
Change this something normal  
Into something beautiful_

Chronology: Tristan is 18. Raja is 8.

The woods were quiet and Tristan moved through them with great stealth. It was his morning hunt, perhaps a rabbit a deer; he hoped he would snag something good. After a bit of preying he spotted a plump grey rabbit idling just in plain sight. _Perfect,_ he thought. He took careful aim with his arrow, but a mere moment before he unleashed his arrow; a figure tumbled and rolled, snatching the rabbit out of the way. That was the third time this week!

"Dammit, Raja!" he yelled.

She appeared behind him, cuddling the rabbit in her arms, petting it lovingly. Why hadn't he heard her? That imp of a girl could be quieter than him. Tristan stared her; barely able to say a word for his anger rendered his tongue immobile.

"You," Tristan said, finding his words, "have been a pain in the ass-"

"Ruining your hunt," she finished. "Yeah, yeah," she mimicked him, and kissed the rabbit on its head.

The little half Sarmatian half Egyptian girl had only been at Badon Hill for four months, but she and the scout had already developed a comfortable rapport. Tristan found her easier to communicate with than most other people. For such a young girl, she spoke clearly and intelligently. He couldn't help but think her endearing. She had an old soul, and far too much life experience in her eyes, but at the same time she had a wealth of innocence about her that highlighted her childlike qualities.

"That's the third time this week," he said with an edge.

She shrugged, beginning to walk off back to the fort, rabbit in tow. He sighed harshly and slipped his bow over his shoulder.

"Hey, are you coming, Trissy?" she said, looking back at him.

_Trissy_, he thought, rolling his eyes. She still insisted on calling him that no matter his profuse opposition. But, he supposed he could tolerate it – as long as she didn't call him that in front of anyone else.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled under his breath, stepping in line with the girl.

All the way to the fort she continued to coddle his furry should-have-been victim. And what's worse! He couldn't even stay mad at her. Tristan guessed it was all right if it brought a smile to her face. He knew that she had trouble sleeping and she confided in him that she rarely ever fell fully asleep. She had shrugged, nightmares, she said. Her face looked a bit wan, and he had caught her more than once staring off into nothing with a look of grief in her eyes. It was eerie how her pupils grew so wide that her eyes appeared black with only that ring of silver. It was like an eclipse. Tristan wondered what demons haunted her.

"Don't snivel, Tristan," she said, and smiled at him.

"I'm not sniveling!"

"Look how happy she is," she told him, holding up the animal to his face.

He grunted in bemusement and cursed under his breath in his native tongue.

"You forget that I can understand Sarmatian."

"Yeah, well, you know too much for your own good."

Raja laughed. "You're a beautiful individual, Tristan."

Before he could say anything, she continued to walk. _Okay, I'm going to let that one go._

As they entered the population of the fort, Tristan unconsciously became distant of the girl. He had a reputation – a reputation for being a cold hearted bastard. He could only imagine the shit that would be said behind his back if people thought he was too chummy with the kid. Not that he cared what others thought – he supposed. The scout wasn't used to having a companion, and certainly not one ten years his junior. Besides the assumption that he had no heart, it was also apparent that he was a loner. But he was a loner – usually. Oh, he knew that he could be cruel and unmerciful; he had to be considering the life he led. Over the years he developed a liking to the kill, the hunt, the taste of blood that he would lick from his fingers. People thought what they thought about it, he didn't care that they surmised that he had no heart. But this girl, she had no preconceived notions of him. She wasn't afraid or wary of him either like most people. Raja was an oddity.

"Are you going to eat breakfast?" she asked, inquiring hopefully.

He heard a few men snicker only a few feet away, his discomfort now palpable. "Yeah," he muttered, "be there in a few," and walked off quickly.

She watched his back, slightly hurt and annoyed that he still gave a damn about spending time with her around other people. He was distant and short when people were around, but his countenance was the complete opposite when they were alone. Because of her family, she had a deep sense of loyalty and didn't like anyone disparaging them. She would defend them to an iron giant if need be. Raja sighed and headed towards the tavern, more than disappointed.

"We'll get you some carrots," she promised her new friend.

----------------------

There were knights smattered around the tavern at various tables, even in the few months she had been at the fort, the numbers dwindled continuously. These men were being checkmated in battle by successive execution; she had never attended so many funerals before in her life. Raja spotted Dagonet and Bors sitting at the other end of the tavern and walked over to them. Dagonet and Bors were like the big brothers she never had. Bors being the vulgar, garrulous one, teaching her all sorts of obscene insults that she had never heard. At least in English. When she first met Dagonet she had to crane her neck all the way back just to look him in the face.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked them, approaching their table.

"You needn't ask," Dagonet said, and pulled out the chair next to him, smiling. He adored the little girl, thinking her like a little sister to him.

Raja plopped on the chair at the small circular table and held the rabbit in her lap. One of the barmaids, a pretty redhead, brought Raja's usual breakfast. The first time she had sat in the tavern for breakfast and had said thank-you to her, she almost dropped the plate.

"Thank you, Vanora," Raja said.

"You look beautiful everyday, Vanora," Bors said. He had been trying to get her in the sack for weeks.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Vanora snipped. She smiled at Raja and Dagonet and went about her work.

Raja took a piece of carrot and fed it to the rabbit.

"What animal are you going to bring in here next – a wolf?" Bors asked, stuffing his face with bread. "Animals at the table."

She grinned. "I'd like that."

He shook his head. "I wasn't serious."

"I know, but I'd still like to meet one up close."

"Where did you find this one?" Dagonet asked.

Raja gave him a knowing look.

"That's the third time this week," Dagonet said.

Bors laughed heartily. "I bet Tristan was pissed as hell!"

------------------------

Instead of going to breakfast like he said he was, he headed to the archery range to ease some of his tension.

_Fucking Lancelot_, he fumed. _What the hell does he know?_

Tristan was sick of Lancelot's constant quips about him turning into a softy, or: Isn't my cousin a little young for you?

Asshole! He was pissed at Lancelot and he was pissed at himself for letting that get to him. And then the other men laughed. Tristan launched his arrows expertly, ignoring the other men staring at his prowess as they sometimes did. After he had emptied the quiver, he retrieved them and got ready to shoot another set.

"Weren't you coming to breakfast, Tristan?" Dagonet asked. He was followed by Lancelot and Raja, sans rabbit, having returned it to its home. The two knights had their own set of bows and arrows.

Lancelot smirked, and Tristan gave him a cold stare that made the cocky grin on his face flicker.

"Not hungry," he replied shortly. He released the arrow and hit the target dead center.

Lancelot said something to the man next to him, and they laughed. The man repeated what Lancelot said to a few other men down the line and they guffawed uproariously as well. Tristan's jaw clenched and he looked over for a split second to see Lancelot and his drones snickering, throwing glances in his direction. Dagonet noticed Tristan's ill at ease behavior and turned to see what he was looking at.

"Hey, Tristan!" Lancelot called. He didn't know when to quit.

The scout ignored him.

The curly haired knight whispered something.

"Stop talking, Lancelot, and quit bothering him," Raja said to her cousin. "You're a meanie." She had her hands on her hips, looking up at her cousin with a scrunched face.

This made the men laugh harder.

"Is she your bodyguard now?" a nameless man piped up.

Tristan took a threatening step forward, but he was held back by Dagonet's firm hand on his shoulder.

"You too," Raja said. "You shouldn't say mean things like that."

"That's cute," the man said.

"Would you stop?" Tristan hissed at her.

She looked at him a bit confused, and hurt.

"I don't need you to stand up for me. Just get out of here," he growled.

"Tristan," Dagonet said sternly. "She was just trying to help."

"I don't care," he said, shaking off Dagonet's hand. "She's a pain the ass."

"Hey, you don't have to-" Lancelot started.

"I was just-" Raja said.

"I said I don't care. You just make it worse. Beat it!" Tristan snarled.

"That's enough, Tristan!" Dagonet said.

But he was not deterred. Raja stood there, looking at him blankly, her pupils large. Uncertain, she tucked her hair behind her ear, hoping that what she was hearing was a mistake.

"Are you deaf?" Tristan snapped.

She blinked as if she was just then getting the message, tears well up in her big eyes. Tristan saw the bewilderment in her eyes and his anger abated, he was instantly sorry. But before he could say anything she ran off.

"Real nice," Lancelot said. "You-"

Before Lancelot could finish his sentence, Tristan's fist flew at his face.

------------------------

Despite the fair morning, dark clouds and strong winds appeared as the day came to an end, rain would surely fall. After Raja had run off Tristan left Lancelot splayed out on the ground while Dagonet tended an unconscious and bloody Lancelot. Tristan had stomped his way back to his room, lying on the bed while he stared at the ceiling. There was a torment of guilt for what he had said to Raja, and he hated himself for letting those idiots get to him. Well, next time he saw her he'd apologize and everything would be all right. She'd forgive him – wouldn't she? He heard thunder and a snap of lightning, following by the splattering of rain. His thoughts were interrupted by a pounding on the door. When he answered it, Dagonet stood before him, already drenched from the rain.

"What?" Tristan asked.

"Have you seen, Raja?" Dagonet asked.

"Shouldn't she be in her room?"

"No, she's not there. She's not in the stables. Nobody's seen her since she ran off earlier. Not even her uncle."

"But she always goes in the stables or her room when it's raining. She hates the thunder," Tristan insisted.

"Well, she's not there, and her uncle is going out to look for her. I'm going, too. Do you have any ideas where she might be?"

"Just one."

But she wasn't there at their place in the forest. Dagonet, Ardeth and Tristan split up, roaming the woods for her. Arthur and Bors stayed behind, making checks around the fort, Lancelot was still a bit worse for the wear after being manhandled by Tristan.

The rain beat down on the scout's face harshly, the thunder was picking up.

Raja usually tried to be brave when she was frightened, but she was openly disturbed by the sound of thunder. It was dark now, and the moon was ensconced by a mass of murky clouds. The last time it had rained like this, just two weeks ago, he and Raja had sat in his room in front of the fire, the young girl teaching him how to play chess. It was a game of tactics, planning, skill – his sort of game.

Tristan's keen eyes scanned the forested area, his clothes now soaked through and through. He was granted a reprieve when the clouds dispersed from the moon's light, and his eye caught something standing out among brush. He moved cautiously, if it was her, he didn't want to scare her. He was finally in sight of the object, and was met by a brand of white hair, bouncing off the night's luminescence. He hastily dismounted and crouched near Raja whom was huddled in a tight ball against a tree. He was relieved to have found her, but his relief was replaced by worry when he took a closer look. Her arms were scraped from branches; her hair was tangled with twigs and leaves, her face a blank stare.

She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering, the only movements she was making. He moved his head slightly, taking a closer look at her. Her eyes. Her eyes were chasms of black; staring...staring at what he didn't know. He had seen this look before, but not to this extent. It seemed as if she were watching something going on in front of her, but the only thing in her line of vision was a mass of vegetation.

As shrilly as he could he whistled, hoping that Ardeth and Dagonet would hear it. He was hesitant to move her while she was in this trance. He whistled again, yelled for them. Something was trickling down her arms. He touched her lightly, moving her appendage just so, and saw blood. In her other hand she held her silver hilted dagger that she always carried with her. Seeing the lines of cuts on her forearm made his blood run cold. Without thinking, he plucked the dagger that was clenched in her fist, but that proved to be a mistake. She screamed. And screamed. It was the loudest he had heard her ever raise her voice. She didn't look at him, just continued to stare where she had been. Tristan tried to quiet her, but the thunder roared, and she became more hysterical. Raja sounded as if she were in pain, shrieking from the depths of her soul, agony that could not be articulated in words.

He picked her up, but in this she struggled. She kicked and flailed, her shouts never ceasing. Tristan heard the clamor of hooves on the ground, Dagonet and Ardeth approaching. He almost dropped her, so strong was her resistance.

When Ardeth approached he said, "She was just sitting there, and I took the dagger from her hands..." He didn't know what to do.

Ardeth nodded, obviously he knew what her reaction was when this happened, and he took her from Tristan's arms and held her firmly, saying something in Arabic. Slowly, she stopped screaming and wriggling, becoming slack.

Dagonet had ridden ahead, taking initiative to get a warm bath, dry clothes, and healing implements prepared for her. Tristan and Ardeth mounted their horses and galloped back to the fort.

--------------------------

For a week she was bedridden, catatonic. She came out of it slowly, bit by bit. Feeding her was difficult, she was too weak to raise her head, and despite that she was now aware of her surroundings, she refused to eat at times. After another week she could sit up and was eating more. Raja was finally able to at least sit in a chair by the window in the sunshine, but she still said nothing. Her uncle sat next to her, reading to her, his patience infinite. Sometimes she sat on her uncle's lap, snuggling next to him as close as she could, her anchor to the world. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her brown skin had turned to a yellowish pallor. Another week went by, and she finally ventured outside. Her and her uncle took walks, but she tired quickly. The knights would sit with her at times, Arthur read to her as well. The only who didn't sit with her was Tristan. He went by her room and looked in, but that was all. In some way he felt that this was partly his fault.

"Will you not go visit her for a while, Tristan?" Dagonet asked him.

Tristan shrugged.

Dagonet sighed. "I think she would appreciate your company."

"What makes you think that – after what I said to her?"

"She's your friend. Probably the best one you ever had," adding it as an afterthought before walking away.

-------------------------

Tristan walked down the hall to her room, hearing her uncle's voice reading to her. She sat there knitting, barely even looking at the needles she was working with expertise. Ardeth must have heard him because he stopped mid-sentence to see Tristan in the doorway.

"I'll come back later," he mumbled. But Ardeth stopped him before he could take two steps.

"No, Tristan. Come in, come in," he insisted.

Raja did not look up or even acknowledge the shift of company. Ardeth ushered him in and made him take the seat he had just occupied. "You leave tomorrow for patrol, visit for a while." He smiled at him, and left the room.

There was slight breeze drifting in from the open window. She still did not take notice of his presence, and the discomfort was palpable. He took in her appearance, the lost weight, she was still a bit pale, but the brief excursions she took outside had added a bit of health to her. The bandages on her arm were covered by her cotton robe. As far as he knew, she hadn't said a word yet, so it was probably pointless to attempt to engage her in conversation. He certainly couldn't read to her, especially from the book Ardeth had just been reading to her. He still couldn't comprehend the squiggles and dots of Arabic.

He sighed. After sitting for a while staring out the window and taking sidelong glances at her, he blurted: "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

She continued to knit.

"It was...wrong of me. There's really no good excuse, I'm just a bastard, I guess."

Raja stopped knitting, but still didn't say anything. She looked at him, as if waiting for him to go on.

"Damn," Tristan said under his breath. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? "Thanks for defending me...like you did. I shouldn't have let those jackasses get to me."

Suddenly she gave a weary sigh, and a look of immense exhaustion came over her. "I thought we were friends," she said quietly.

He was startled by her words, the fact that she had spoken at all.

"Well, I'd still like to be your friend, if you can forgive me." Not in a million years would he have thought he'd be having a conversation like this.

"Forgiveness...is not a part of human nature," she said.

Oddly, his heart sunk at her words. The thought of not spending time with her anymore pained him. He regretted all the more for his behavior, and he usually tried to make it a point in his life to have no regrets.

"I understand," he said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Well, I leave on patrol tomorrow. Probably be gone, not more than a week." When she didn't reply, he got up to make his departure. "Bye," he said simply, he could think of nothing else to say. She just resumed knitting.

When he got to the door, he stopped and turned around. "You may not believe me, Raja, or even care now..." his jaw clenched, "but you're the best friend I've ever had."

-------------------------------

Five days later they arrived back at the fort. They were dirty, tired and hungry, and the first thing they did was bathe. Tristan stayed in the bath house longer, stewing in the warm water long after the other knights had left. His feet were calloused and blistered more than usual and it hurt like hell to walk. He hadn't seen Raja when he got back, but he had heard Ardeth tell Dagonet that she was resting. He rubbed his eyes and sank under the water, but came up instantly when something plopped in the water.

"Wash behind your ears, Trissy," Raja said. She was sitting with her back to him against the tub.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded. He looked at what she had dropped in the water – it was a bar of soap.

"Wash, Trissy," she instructed "Get a move on. You are the slowest bather I've ever met." She tossed a washrag over her head. Raja sat with her back to him.

He looked at the back of her head quizzically, but he did what she said. They sat in silence, only the splattering of water was audible.

"Lather your hair," she said. "I'll untangle it."

He grumbled. But he was glad that she was talking to him with that lilting tone of hers. She usually did untangle his hair, and not harshly either. Once she tried to put some scented oil in it to make it softer but he adamantly refused. That's for women, he said.

"Did you have to fight any Woads this time?"

"Nope," he said, continued to clean.

"Maybe I can go next time," she said musingly.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," he said resolutely.

"Why not?"

"You're too young," was his simple reply.

"I can fight though."

"Your uncle wouldn't let you go anyway."

"When I get older," she conceded.

_Not if I have anything to say about it._ He didn't want her out there.

"Are you almost finished?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I hope you weren't planning to have any women waiting in your room because I have your food in there and your hair desperately needs to be combed." She picked up his dirty clothes without him noticing. "Not unless you're still embarrassed by me."

"I was never embarrassed by you." He gestured to the door with a movement of his head. "I'll be there in a minute."

He heard her little feet quietly pitter patter out of the bath house and sunk himself back under the water to wash the soap out of his hair. He got out of the tub and looked behind him for his clothes.

"Damn it, Raja!" he galled between clenched teeth. The little hellion had taken his clothes with her! All she left was his cloak and boots. He was lucky his room was nearby. Without drying off he put his boots on wincing as they rubbed against his feet and wrapped his cloak around him tightly.

He poked his head out the door, relieved to see that there were not many people around. It was nearing the evening and most people were settling in for the night or getting pissed at the tavern. He hurried to his room ignoring the looks of people watching the wet man with only a cloak and boots on his person.

Tristan thrust his door open and there she was sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth, stoking the flames.

"You-"

"...are a pain in the ass," she finished for him. She waved him off and motioned her hand towards his bed on the other side of the room. "Clothes," she said.

He decided to let it go for now, walking over to his bed. He looked at her still poking the logs and looked back on his bed. There was a wardrobe on his bed. Two new pairs of cotton breeches, one light brown, one dark brown, a new pair of suede breeches, three pairs of socks, two white sleeveless undershirts, two tunics, one a burnt red, one a dark brown, and a brand new coat. Tristan picked up the coat and looked it over. It was a dark brown, similar to his other one, only, well, only it was new.

"Where did you get all this?" he asked.

"I made it for you," she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders. Raja turned for a brief moment, seeing the look of consternation on his face. "You don't like it?"

"Yeah...I do." He was still flustered. "You did all this while I was gone?"

"No, I've been working on it for a few weeks. I just wanted to give it to you all at once. Put it on. Or do you want to stand there in your cloak all night?" She turned back around.

He took his boots off, hissing under his breath as his feet were tortured once again. He slipped on the dark pair of breeches and one of the white undershirts. It was long, just as he preferred. It all fit perfectly. "How did you know my size?"

She cursed a streak in Arabic. "Do you always ask this many questions when you receive a gift?"

"I just don't know why you did all this for me."

She got up and sat at the small circular table by the window. She had a plate of food ready for him – slices of buttered bread, meat, a bowl of soup, fresh ale, and four apples in a small basket.

"You may not have noticed, but your other clothes were in horrible condition," she smiled at him. He was glad to see it. He took the seat opposite her and looked at the food. "It's not poisoned."

Tristan made a sound of amusement with a half cocked smile, grateful for the warm food. "Are you going to eat?"

"I already ate," she said.

She did look a little better than when he had last seen her, Tristan observed. Her eyes seemed a bit more alive and her cheeks not so sunken in. "You look better."

"I guess." She got up and picked up a bucket of hot water that was near the fireplace. She placed it by his feet and told him to dunk his feet in. "I can tell your feet are hurting."

He put his foot in but instantly took it out. "It's burning!"

"Oh, don't pout, Trissy. It's not hot enough to blister your skin. Go on," she insisted.

He took a bite of bread, and put his feet in the water, getting used to warmth. "Did you put something else in this water?"

"Yes. It's supposed to soothe your skin." She sat back down. "My _walida _used to do this all the time for my _baba_."

"Thank you," he said seriously.

"You're welcome."

After a while he said, "I'll pay you back."

"For what?"

"You didn't get all that material for free."

Raja's face went hard and she leaned over and slapped him across the head.

"What was that for?"

"Do you always react this way when someone does something nice for you?"

Tristan was silent for a moment, drinking his ale. "I can't remember the last time someone did something like this for me without wanting something in return."

"Hmm. That's too bad then. I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"I appreciate it."

"You would have gone around with holes in your other coat and breeches, wouldn't you? They were still dirty."

"Doesn't matter to me."

"I figured that. I'll wear the same thing, too, as long as it's clean. Now that I'm here, though, you will always have clean clothes."

Tristan laughed at this. "You're going to be my caretaker, then?"

"Not your caretaker, but I'll take care of you. Even if I'm smaller than you." She patted his hand. "I like taking care of you."

Tristan finished his food and drank the last of his ale. "Can I take my feet out now?"

"No. I'm going to untangle your hair, then I'm going to clip your toe nails – when's the last time you did that? – and put something on your feet."

She carried a black case over to him that she had left by the door. "It's a grooming kit," she told him, before he could ask. She took out a comb and started to gently take out the knots in his hair. He almost fell asleep, so good was the feeling of her fingers against his scalp. Soon she was done with his hair and told him he could take his feet out of the water. He sat on his bed leaning against the headboard, then she plopped herself in front of feet, sitting cross-legged. He munched on his apple while she clipped his toe nails – not without her tsk-tsking her tongue in mock derision – and massaged a warm salve into his feet with her little hands.

Tristan was sleeping by the time she finished, so Raja pulled the blanket from under his legs and covered him with it.

------------------------------

It was completely dark when Tristan woke up. He was covered with his blanket, and Raja was gone. The dishes had been taken away, the table wiped clean. He got up and noticed that his feet did feel better. Tristan decided to go to the tavern. He slipped one of his new tunics over his head, and put on his new coat, which was also a perfect fit. His boots were sitting a safe distance from the fire, aired out and clean of the dirt and mud.

When he entered the tavern it was loud and fairly crowded. Bors noticed him and waved him over. He took a seat with him and Dagonet, ale being instantly served to him by a lasciviously smiling wench. A minute later Lancelot took a seat across from Tristan, the curly haired knight's swagger and cockiness was back by now. "Are you wearing new clothes?" he asked.

"You are observant," Tristan said dryly.

"How much did that cost?" he asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he stated.

Lancelot looked at Dag and Bors for assistance. But they were both chuckling at Lancelot's apparent bewilderment and resentment at the usually shabby dressed Tristan having brand new clothes. A look of clarity came over Lancelot's face.

"Someone gave them to you!" he accused.

Dagonet rolled his eyes. Bors was busy chatting with Vanora, who had suddenly come around. Unbeknownst to him, Raja had put in a good word for him.

"I'm off!" he announced with a wide grin on his face and Vanora's hand in his.

Lancelot was still stewing over Tristan's good fortune, finally going off with a woman.

"Raja?" Dagonet asked him.

Tristan nodded.

"She's good to have around," Dag said. "She's even been helping me with my Latin," he confided.

Tristan raised his eyebrows in surprise. "She's too smart for her own good," he said in a good natured way.

The tall knight laughed.

After Dagonet left, Tristan headed back to his room as well. Normally he would take a woman to his bed for a good release, but he wasn't in the mood. When he got back to his room, he took off his coat and draped it over a chair, and put the other clothes on the seat of the chair. He went to sleep in his breeches and undershirt, drifting off.

--------------------------

The rain woke him up. After that he couldn't fall back asleep. When the latch on his door flipped off by itself, he instantly went for his sword, but when Raja popped her head in, he relaxed.

"Come in," he said.

She slipped in and latched the door shut again. She went and plopped on his bed, and he saw that her pupils were wide again.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered. "It's too loud, and THEY might come back."

All he heard was the sound of rain. "Who might come back?" She flinched when a rumble of thunder sounded.

"Here," he said, pulling the covers back.

She crawled under the covers and on top of him, her head against his chest. He laid back and pulled the covers over them. For some reason this felt like the most natural thing in the world. She twisted his hair around her finger, her other hand clenched in a fist on his shoulder. He took her tiny fist in his hand, enveloping it.

"Am I too heavy?" she asked quietly.

"Hmmph. You're light as a feather."

They lay in silence, she still twirling his hair around her finger.

"I don't know who they are, Raja," he said quietly, "but I won't let them hurt you, okay?"

Her head nodded against his chest, and he held her to him with his free arm. She warmed his body, and he felt peace. Eventually he could tell that she had drifted off because her hand had stopped moving. He pulled the covers up higher, and began to drift off himself. It was the most peaceful slumber he had had in years.

_And I'm still fighting for the  
Word to break these chains  
And I still pray when I look  
In your eyes, you'll stare right  
Back down into something beautiful_  
-Jars of Clay


	2. EDITED: Something Beautiful

I edited this to make it more realistic.

**Something Beautiful**

_Close my eyes and hold my heart_

_Cover me and make me something_

_Change this something normal_

_Into something beautiful_

Chronology: Tristan is 18. Raja is 8.

The woods were quiet and Tristan moved through them with great stealth. It was his morning hunt, perhaps a rabbit a deer; he hoped he would snag something good. After a bit of preying he spotted a plump grey rabbit idling just in plain sight. _Perfect,_ he thought. He took careful aim with his arrow, but a mere moment before he unleashed his arrow; a figure tumbled and rolled, snatching the rabbit out of the way. That was the third time this week!

"Dammit, Raja!" he yelled.

She appeared behind him, cuddling the rabbit in her arms, petting it lovingly. Why hadn't he heard her? That imp of a girl could be quieter than him at times. Tristan stared at her; barely able to say a word for his anger rendered his tongue immobile.

"You," Tristan said, finding his words, "have been a pain in the ass-"

Raja smiled at him with disarming innocence. "Ruining your hunt," she finished. "Yeah, yeah," she mimicked him, and kissed the rabbit on its head.

The little half Sarmatian half Egyptian girl had only been at the fortress for four months, but she and the scout had already developed a comfortable rapport. Tristan found her easier to communicate with than most other people. For such a young girl, she spoke clearly and intelligently. He couldn't help but think her endearing. She had an old soul and far too much life experience in her eyes, but at the same time she had a wealth of innocence about her that highlighted her childlike qualities.

"That's the third time this week," he said with an edge. Yes, sabotaging his hunts. Sometimes with a warning call to the animals, scaring them away. Or greeting him with distracting politeness.

She just grinned at him again, beginning to walk off back to the fort, rabbit in tow. He sighed harshly and slipped his bow over his shoulder.

"Are you coming, Trissy?" she said, looking back at him.

_Trissy_, he thought, rolling his eyes. She still insisted on calling him that no matter his profuse opposition. But, he supposed he could tolerate it – as long as she didn't call him that in front of anyone else.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled under his breath, stepping in line with the girl.

All the way to the fort she continued to coddle his furry should-have-been victim. And what's worse! He couldn't even stay mad at her. Tristan guessed it was all right if it brought a smile to her face. He knew that she had trouble sleeping and she confided in him that she rarely ever fell fully asleep. Nightmares, she had said with sadness. Her face looked a bit wan, and he had caught her more than once staring off into nothing with a look of grief in her eyes. It was eerie how her pupils grew so wide that her eyes appeared black with only that ring of silver. It was like an eclipse. Tristan wondered what demons haunted her.

"Don't snivel, Tristan," she said, and smiled at him. She was full of smiles this morning.

"I'm not sniveling!"

"Look how happy she is," she told him, holding up the animal to his face.

He grunted in bemusement and cursed under his breath in his native tongue.

"You forget that I can understand Sarmatian." She pointed her small finger up at him for emphasis.

"Yeah, well, you know too much for your own good."

Raja laughed. "You're a beautiful individual, Tristan."

Before he could say anything, she continued to walk. _Okay, I'm going to let that one go._

As they walked, Raja nuzzled and petted the bunny.

"I'm Raja," she said. "And this is Trissy. What is your name?"

Tristan peered at her from under his shaggy bangs.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "It is nice to meet you, too, Whiskers." She turned her head up to look at Tristan. "This is Whiskers."

He grunted.

As they entered the population of the fort, Tristan unconsciously became distant of the girl. He had a reputation, not really of his own making, but more from populations' idea of him. He could only imagine the things that would be said behind his back if people thought he was too chummy with the kid. Not that he cared what others thought – he supposed. The scout wasn't used to having a companion, and certainly not one ten years his junior. Besides the assumption that he had no heart, it was also apparent that he was a loner. But he was a loner – usually. Oh, he knew that he could be cruel and unmerciful; he had to be considering the life he led. Over the years he developed a liking to the kill, the hunt, the taste of blood that he would lick from his fingers. People thought what they thought about it, he didn't care that they surmised that he had no heart. But this girl, she had no preconceived notions of him. She wasn't afraid or wary of him either like most people. Raja was an oddity.

"Are you going to eat breakfast?" she asked.

He heard a few men snicker only a few feet away, his discomfort now palpable. "Yeah," he muttered, "Be there in a few," and walked off quickly.

"Wait," she called after him. "I'll come with you."

He stopped in his tracks. "The tavern is just over there. You can walk there yourself, can't you?"

Some of the cheer from her face disappeared and he felt a pang of guilt. She often would follow him around, and most everyone. Especially her uncle, as if she were afraid to go anywhere herself. Usually he didn't mind, but...

Raja nodded solemnly, head down. Tristan went his own way.

She was hurt, and a nugget of fear curdled in her stomach as she stood with her animal friend in the middle of the courtyard. It was broad daylight, but she wasn't used to being by her lonesome. She wished her uncle was with her.

"Come on, Whiskers, we can get you some carrots or something."

----------------------

There were knights smattered around the tavern at various tables, even in the few months she had been at the fortress, the numbers dwindled continuously. These men were being checkmated in battle by successive execution; she had never attended so many funerals before in her life. Raja spotted Dagonet and Bors sitting at the other end of the tavern and walked over to them after a brief moment of hesitation. Dagonet and Bors were like the big brothers she never had. Bors being the vulgar, garrulous one, teaching her all sorts of obscene insults that she had never heard. At least in English. When she first met Dagonet she had been amazed at his towering height, but to her amazement he had been ever so gentle.

"Can I sit with you?" she asked them quietly, approaching their table.

"You needn't ask," Dagonet said, and pulled out the chair next to him, smiling. He adored the little girl, thinking her like a little sister.

Raja plopped on the chair, wiggling her rear to get seated comfortably, at the small circular table and held the rabbit in her lap. One of the barmaids, a pretty redhead, brought Raja's usual breakfast. The first time she had sat in the tavern for breakfast and had said thank-you to her, she almost dropped the plate.

"Thank you, Vanora," Raja said.

"You look more beautiful everyday, Vanora," Bors said. He had been trying to woo her into his quarters for weeks.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Vanora snipped. She smiled at Raja and Dagonet and went about her work.

Raja took a piece of carrot and fed it to the rabbit.

"What animal are you going to bring in here next – a wolf?" Bors asked, stuffing his face with bread. "Animals at the table."

She grinned. "Oh, I would love to meet a wolf!"

He shook his head. "I wasn't serious."

"I know, but I'd still like to meet one up close."

"Where did you find this one?" Dagonet asked.

Raja gave him a knowing look and a guileless curve of her lips.

"That's the third time this week," Dagonet said.

Bors laughed heartily. "I bet Tristan was pissed as hell!"

------------------------

Instead of going to breakfast like he said he was, he headed to the archery range to ease some of his tension.

_Damned Lancelot_, he fumed. _What the hell does he know?_

Tristan was sick of Lancelot's constant quips about him turning into a softy, or: Isn't my cousin a little young for you? Disgusting.

Bastard! He was pissed at Lancelot and he was pissed at himself for letting that get to him. And then the other men laughed. Tristan launched his arrows expertly, ignoring the other men staring at his prowess as they sometimes did. After he had emptied the quiver, he retrieved them and got ready to shoot another set.

"Weren't you coming to breakfast, Tristan?" Dagonet asked. He was followed by Lancelot and Raja sans rabbit, having returned it to its home. She was carrying her small bow and equally small quiver of arrows. The two knights had their own set of bows and arrows. Hers looked like toys compared to theirs.

Lancelot smirked, and Tristan gave him a cold stare that made the cocky grin on his face flicker.

"Not hungry," he replied shortly. He released the arrow and hit the target dead center.

Lancelot said something to the man next to him, and they laughed. The man repeated what Lancelot said to a few other men down the line and they guffawed uproariously as well. Tristan's jaw clenched and he looked over for a split second to see Lancelot and his drones snickering, throwing glances in his direction. Dagonet noticed Tristan's ill at ease behavior and turned to see what he was looking at.

"Hey, Tristan!" Lancelot called. He didn't know when to quit.

The scout ignored him.

The curly haired knight whispered something.

"You hush, Lancelot," Raja said to her cousin. "You're a meanie." She had her hands on her hips, looking up at her cousin with a scrunched face.

This made the men laugh harder.

"Is she your bodyguard now?" a nameless man piped up.

Tristan took a threatening step forward, but he was held back by Dagonet's firm hand on his shoulder.

"You too," Raja said. "You shouldn't say mean things like that. It's just mean."

"That's cute," the man said.

"Would you stop?" Tristan hissed at her.

She looked at him a bit confused and hurt.

"I don't need you to stand up for me. Just get out of here," he growled.

"Tristan," Dagonet said sternly. "She was just trying to help."

"I don't care," he said, shaking off Dagonet's hand. "She's a pain the ass."

"Hey, you don't have to-" Lancelot started.

But he was not deterred. Raja stood there, looking at him blankly, her pupils large. A film of tears gathered in her eyes.

"Are you deaf?" Tristan snapped, using his bite to ignore the pain he knew he was causing her.

She blinked as if she was just then getting the message. She sniffled. Tristan saw the bewilderment in her eyes and his anger abated, he was instantly sorry. But before he could say anything she ran off.

"Real nice," Lancelot said. "You-"

Before Lancelot could finish his sentence, Tristan's fist flew at his face.

------------------------

Despite the fair morning, dark clouds and strong winds appeared as the day came to an end, rain would surely fall. After Raja had run off, Tristan left Lancelot splayed out on the ground while Dagonet tended an unconscious and bloody Lancelot. Tristan had stomped his way back to his room, lying on the bed while he stared at the ceiling. There was a torment of guilt for what he had said to Raja, and he hated himself for letting those idiots get to him. Well, next time he saw her he'd apologize and everything would be all right. She'd forgive him – wouldn't she? He heard thunder and a snap of lightning, following by the splattering of rain. His thoughts were interrupted by a pounding on the door. When he answered it, Dagonet stood before him, already drenched from the rain.

"What?" Tristan asked.

"Have you seen, Raja?" Dagonet asked.

"Shouldn't she be in her room?"

"No, she's not there. She's not in the stables. Nobody's seen her since she ran off earlier. Not even Ardeth. He is worried sick"

"But she always goes in the stables or her room when it's raining. She hates the thunder," Tristan insisted.

"Well, she's not there, and her uncle is going out to look for her. I'm going, too. Do you have any ideas where she might be?"

"Just one."

But she wasn't there at their place in the forest. Dagonet, Ardeth, and Tristan split up, roaming the woods for her. Arthur and Bors stayed behind, making checks around the fortress, Lancelot was still a bit worse for the wear after being manhandled by Tristan.

The rain beat down on the scout's face harshly, the thunder was picking up. Raja usually tried to be brave when she was frightened, but she was openly disturbed by the sound of thunder. It was dark now, and the moon was ensconced by a mass of murky clouds. The last time it had rained like this, just two weeks ago, he and Raja had sat in her room in front of the fire, the young girl teaching him how to play chess. It was a game of tactics, planning, skill – his sort of game.

Tristan's keen eyes scanned the forested area, his clothes now soaked through and through. He was granted a reprieve when the clouds dispersed from the moon's light, and his eye caught something standing out among brush. He moved cautiously, if it was her, he didn't want to scare her. He was finally in sight of the object, and was met by a brand of white hair, bouncing off the night's luminescence. He hastily dismounted and crouched near Raja whom was huddled in a tight ball against a tree. He was relieved to have found her, but his relief was replaced by worry when he took a closer look. Her arms were scraped from branches; her hair was tangled with twigs and leaves, her face a blank stare.

She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering, the only movements she was making. He moved his head slightly, taking a closer look at her. Her eyes. Her eyes were chasms of black; staring...staring at what he didn't know. He had seen this look before, but not to this extent. And Ardeth had always appeared to take her in his arms and soothe her. It seemed as if she were watching something going on in front of her, but the only thing in her line of vision was a mass of vegetation.

As shrilly as he could he whistled, hoping that Ardeth and Dagonet would hear it. He was hesitant to move her while she was in this trance. He whistled again, yelled for them. In her hand she held her silver hilted dagger that she always carried with her. It had been her mothers, and she carried it with her more as a keepsake than anything else, just as she always wore her late father's dragon trinket. Without thinking, he plucked the dagger that was clenched in her fist, but that proved to be a mistake. She screamed. And screamed. It was the loudest he had heard her ever raise her voice, other than those times she woke up in the night screaming. She didn't look at him, just continued to stare where she had been. Tristan tried to quiet her, but the thunder roared, and she became more hysterical. Raja sounded as if she were in pain, shrieking from the depths of her soul, agony that could not be articulated in words.

He picked her up, but in this she struggled. She kicked and flailed, her shouts never ceasing. Tristan heard the clamor of hooves on the ground, Dagonet, and Ardeth approaching. He almost dropped her, so strong was her resistance. He had never attempted to hold her before.

When Ardeth approached he said, "She was just sitting there, and I took the dagger from her hands..." He didn't know what to do.

Ardeth nodded, obviously he knew what her reaction was when this happened, and he took her from Tristan's arms and held her firmly, saying something in Arabic. Slowly, she stopped screaming and wriggling, becoming slack.

Dagonet had ridden ahead, taking initiative to get a warm bath, dry clothes, and healing implements prepared for her. Tristan and Ardeth mounted their horses and galloped back to the fort.

--------------------------

For a week she was bedridden, catatonic. She came out of it slowly, bit by bit. Feeding her was difficult, she was too weak to raise her head, and despite that she was now aware of her surroundings, she refused to eat at times. After another week she could sit up and was eating more. Raja was finally able to at least sit in a chair by the window in the sunshine, but she still said nothing. Her uncle sat next to her, reading to her, his patience infinite. Sometimes she sat on her uncle's lap, snuggling next to him as close as she could, her anchor to the world. Her cheeks were sunken in, and her brown skin had turned to a yellowish pallor. Another week went by, and she finally ventured outside. Her and her uncle took walks, but she tired quickly. The knights would sit with her at times, Arthur read to her as well. The only who didn't sit with her was Tristan. He went by her room and looked in, but that was all. In some way he felt that this was partly his fault.

"Will you not go visit her for a while, Tristan?" Dagonet asked him.

Tristan shrugged.

Dagonet sighed. "I think she would appreciate your company."

"What makes you think that – after what I said to her?"

"She's your friend. Probably the best one you've ever had," adding it as an afterthought before walking away.

-------------------------

Tristan walked down the hall to her room, hearing her uncle's voice reading to her. She sat there knitting, barely even looking at the needles she was working with expertise. Ardeth must have heard him because he stopped mid-sentence to see Tristan in the doorway.

"I'll come back later," he mumbled. But Ardeth stopped him before he could take two steps.

"No, Tristan. Come in, come in," he insisted.

Raja did not look up or even acknowledge the shift of company. Ardeth ushered him in and made him take the seat he had just occupied. "You leave tomorrow for patrol, visit for a while." Ardeth put a loving hand on Raja's head and smoothed her fly-away hairs. "I will not be far, little one, all right?" He kissed her on the head and quit the room.

There was a slight breeze drifting in from the open window. She still did not take notice of his presence, and the discomfort was palpable. He took in her appearance, the lost weight, she was still a bit pale, but the brief excursions she took outside had added a bit of health to her. She wore her cotton robe, a tunic, and hose underneath. Thick socks covered her smaller than small feet. As far as he knew, she hadn't said a word yet, so it was probably pointless to attempt to engage her in conversation. He certainly couldn't read to her, especially from the book Ardeth had just been reading to her. He still couldn't comprehend the squiggles and dots of Arabic.

A tiny mouse was sitting on her shoulder. Not Moses the mouse, he knew, for that mouse had passed on a little over a month ago, causing Raja to grieve. She had even had a funeral for the rodent. And not long after, another mouse had "found her," a "friend of Moses." The small creature that accompanied her now was named Harold.

He sighed. After sitting for a while staring out the window and taking sidelong glances at her, he blurted: "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

She continued to knit.

"It was...wrong of me. There's really no good excuse, I'm just a bastard, I guess."

Raja stopped knitting, but still didn't say anything. She looked at him, as if waiting for him to go on.

"Damn," Tristan said under his breath. Now what the hell was he supposed to do? "Thanks for defending me...like you did. I shouldn't have let them get to me." And it dawned on him that he couldn't remember the last time someone had stuck up for him.

Suddenly she gave a weary sigh, and a look of immense exhaustion came over her. "I thought we were friends," she said quietly and sadly.

He was startled by her words, the fact that she had spoken at all.

"Well, I'd still like to be your friend, if you can forgive me." Not in a million years would he have thought he'd be having a conversation like this.

Raja sniffed and plucked Harold from her shoulder to hold him in her hands. "You were mean."

Oddly, his heart sunk at her words. The thought of not spending time with her anymore pained him. He regretted all the more his behavior, and he usually tried to make it a point in his life to have no regrets.

Those three words, "You were mean" were worse than the names men and women alike called him behind his back. And he had never cared what they had said to him in the first place.

"I understand," he said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Well, I leave on patrol tomorrow. Probably be gone, not more than a week." When she didn't reply, he got up to make his departure. "Bye," he said simply, he could think of nothing else to say. She just continued to pet Harold.

When he got to the door, he stopped and turned around. "You may not believe me, Raja, or even care now..." his jaw clenched, "but you're the best friend I've ever had."

-------------------------------

Five days later they arrived back at the fort. They were dirty, tired, and hungry, and the first thing they did was bathing. Tristan stayed in the bath house longer, stewing in the warm water long after the other knights had left. His feet were calloused and blistered more than usual and it hurt like hell to walk. He hadn't seen Raja when he got back, and it was odd not to, because she always stood in the courtyard with her uncle Ardeth when they came riding in. But he had heard Ardeth tell Dagonet that she was resting. He rubbed his eyes and sank under the water.

He harshly scrubbed his hair and scalp and the rest of his body. He got out of the bath, stepping tenderly on his sore feet. He put on his raggedy, but clean clothes, he had forgotten a pair of socks, and walked to his quarters.

The door was already open, the firing roaring.

"Hi, Trissy!" Raja greeted him warmly. She was pitter-pattering around the room, Harold a lump on her shoulder under her blue jerkin.

He opened his eyes in surprise. "Hi."

"I'm really glad you all got back safe." She nodded. "I am." Raja put the tip of her finger in a basin of water. "Okay, it's ready. Put your feet in."

Pausing for a brief moment, he finally sat in front of the chair by the fire and put his feet in scalding hot water. "Christ!" he hissed, but let his feet submerge anyway. He felt a tingling. "What's in this water?"

"Balms and things," she said. "My _walida_ used to use this stuff for my _baba_."

There was a plate of food on the small table. Bread, meat and vegetables, and mug of some...

"Tea," Raja said. "My Uncle Ardeth says it is good for you. Yes, he did," she said, confirming her own words.

He would have preferred ale, but he wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. He wasn't accustomed to this sort of special care. But he ate his meal and drank the tea, which was quite tasty.

"Can I take my feet out?"

"Nope," she replied blithely. She stood by him with a comb. "I will comb your hair."

His brow rose sky-high.

"Can I?" she asked, hope laced her words.

He grumbled, "I guess."

Raja began to take out the tangles and knots from his uneven, jagged tresses. He sat, unmoving, until she declared herself finished.

"Want me to trim it, too?" she asked.

"No," he replied.

"Okay." She cleaned the comb and put it away in a black satchel. "You can take your toes out now." She held out a jar of cream. "Put this on your feet."

Tristan perused the jar suspiciously.

"Oh! And look! Look, look!" Raja walked to his bed and plucked a pair of newly knitted socks from the bed.

He saw that there was something else on his bed that he'd failed to notice. A coat? He stood up and went to his bed and held up the jacket. It wasn't brand new, but he could tell that it was a coat that had been carefully mended with new thread and cleaned thoroughly, and it smelled...good. There were pockets sewn in, and smaller pockets that looked like sheaths for daggers on the inside chest.

"I saw your other one was almost rags," she said. "So I tried to make you another one."

"Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You like it?"

"Yeah."

Raja clasped her hands together against her chest in happiness, and she surprised him by giving him a hug, she barely reached his waist, so her head rested against his thigh. He patted her back awkwardly, but in a sincere gesture of...affection?

She let him go and he put the jacket on over his tunic. It was a perfect fit, reached just a tad past his knees the way his other one did. At her insistence, he put the cream on his feet, then put his new socks on his feet.

A little while later, Ardeth appeared in the doorway with a benevolent air. He greeted Tristan, and gave him a small grin, a knowing one.

Raja ran to her uncle and gave him a hug. Always greeting him like she had not seen him in days, instead of hours. Ardeth plucked her up from the floor.

"I think it is near to someone's bed time," Ardeth said.

"Oh, no!" Raja exclaimed, looking back and forth between Tristan and the Egyptian. "I'm not sleepy, really I'm not!"

Ardeth chuckled.

"Me and Harold aren't sleepy," she said.

"So you say, little one," Ardeth replied gently.

Raja sighed. "Okay..."

She asked if she could give Trissy a goodnight hug, and Ardeth set her down so she could do. This time, Tristan embraced her a bit more comfortably, despite Ardeth's presence.

They left the room, and down the hall Tristan heard her ask, "Can we play Chess?"

The voices were further and faint, "No, little one," Ardeth replied.

"Oh, poop," Raja said dejectedly.

------------------------------

It was completely dark when Tristan emerged from his room after his own brief rest. He got up and noticed that his feet did feel better. Tristan decided to go to the tavern. His boots were sitting a safe distance from the fire, aired out and clean of the dirt and mud.

When he entered the tavern it was loud and fairly crowded. Bors noticed him and waved him over. He took a seat with him and Dagonet, ale being instantly served to him by a lasciviously smiling wench. A minute later Lancelot took a seat across from Tristan, the curly haired knight's swagger and cockiness was back by now.

"Are you wearing a new coat?" he asked.

"You are observant," Tristan said dryly. Not mentioning that it wasn't new, but he was enjoying Lancelot's peeved expression.

"How much did that cost?" he asked incredulously.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he stated.

Lancelot looked at Dag and Bors for assistance. But they were both chuckling at Lancelot's apparent bewilderment and resentment at the usually shabby dressed Tristan having a "brand new" jerkin. A look of clarity came over Lancelot's face.

"Someone gave it to you!" he accused. "What wench would give you such a gift?"

Dagonet rolled his eyes. Bors was busy chatting with Vanora, who had suddenly come around. Unbeknownst to him, Vanora had seen how Bors acted around Raja, attentive and gentle, and Vanora figured the gruff knight couldn't be all bad.

"I'm off!" he announced with a wide grin on his face and Vanora's hand in his.

Lancelot was still stewing over Tristan's good fortune, finally going off with a woman.

"Raja?" Dagonet asked him.

Tristan nodded.

"She's good to have around," Dag said. "We read Latin together," he confided.

Tristan raised his eyebrows in surprise. He nodded, understanding the peace the little girl could bring to a person.

After Dagonet left, Tristan headed back to his room as well. Normally, coming back from an arduous patrol, he would obtain the company of a wench, but not this night. He felt clean, and wanted to maintain the air that did not smell of a sweaty woman who reeked of other men. When he got back to his room, he took off his coat and draped it over a chair, and put the other clothes on the seat of the chair. He went to sleep in his breeches and undershirt, drifting off.

--------------------------

The rain woke him up. After that he couldn't fall back asleep. When the latch on his door flipped off by itself, he instantly went for his sword, but when Raja popped her head in, a lump on her head which he surmised was Harold, he relaxed.

"Come in," he said.

She slipped in and closed the door. She went and plopped on his bed, and he saw that her pupils were wide again.

"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

"Couldn't sleep," she whispered. "It's too loud, and They might come back."

All he heard was the sound of rain. "Who might come back?" She flinched when a rumble of thunder sounded.

"Here," he said, pulling the covers back without thinking.

"Can Harold sleep, too?" she asked. The mouse was now in her hands.

"Sure."

She crawled under the covers and on top of him, her head against his chest. Harold was next to his shoulder. He laid back and pulled the covers over them. For some reason this felt like the most natural thing in the world. She twisted his hair around her finger, her other hand petting the mouse. He took her tiny fist in his hand, enveloping it.

"Am I too heavy?" she asked quietly.

"Hmmph. You're light as a feather."

They lay in silence, she still twirling his hair around her finger.

"I don't know who they are, Raja," he said quietly, "but I won't let them hurt you, okay?"

Her head nodded against his chest, and he held her to him with his free arm. She warmed his body, and he felt peace. She yawned like a baby, and smacked her lips. Eventually he could tell that she had drifted off because her hand had stopped moving. He pulled the covers up higher, and began to drift off himself. It was the most peaceful slumber he had had in years.

_And I'm still fighting for the_

_Word to break these chains_

_And I still pray when I look_

_In your eyes, you'll stare right_

_Back down into something beautiful_

_-Jars of Clay_


End file.
